Life continued
by Cha Oseye Tempest Thrain
Summary: Final entry in the Dead Poisoning series.


**Disclaimer: **I own neither NCIS nor the characters involved. I make no money from this, it is purely for entertainment purposes.

**Credits : **Thank-you to Kate98 for betaing this for me.

**Author's Note**: This is the final entry in the "Dead Poisoning" series – an examination of the process of grief. The series is comprised of _Dead Poisoning_, _Talk Therapy, Heart Problems_, and the following story _Life (continued)._

**Spoilers**: Twilight.

**Life (continued)**

_I can't believe nobody's claimed any of this._ Tony stared into the small box, all of Kate's office belongings packed away and dropped into storage until the time somebody came along and said they wanted a piece of her. Not her files, folders or case-notes, but _her_ things. Pictures, keys, make-up, a water bottle… all the paraphernalia of a life lived more in the office than at home. All the signs of a life uncompleted, of a career cut short mid-word.

He shouldn't have this box, shouldn't be looking through it, but _someone_ had to. They couldn't just let Kate disappear into nothingness. It was late night, anyway. Nobody else was here, nobody had to know.

He sifted through her things, there wasn't much here, really. Not a lot of evidence that Caitlin Todd existed. An envelope caught his eye and he picked it up.

_Personal. Confidential. _Kate's handwriting screamed in bold, black capitals. _Do Not Open. This means you, Tony_. Didn't Kate know that something like that was like offering a big, juicy steak to a half-starved pit-bull? A letter like that _screamed_ to be opened, it begged him to please-please-pretty-please-with-whipped-cream-and-a-cherry-on-top open it. Tony was always a sucker when somebody begged.

He opened his pocket-knife (an illegal switchblade, really, but no one had called him on it yet, and Gibbs never specified _what_ kind of knife an agent was supposed to have) and slipped it into the seam of the envelope, cutting it along its length. A letter fell out and he picked it up.

_Tony, _he read_, if you're reading this, I had better be dead_. He paused for a moment, trying not to think about how prescient those words were. _Had_ she known? Or was this just a random 'In the Event of My Death' letter; something that some people seemed to think needed more attention than a will?

_If I'm not, I'm going to have Gibbs kill you. _ He laughed. Typical Kate. He wondered if the others got letters like this or if somehow she'd focused on him. He'd never know. That wasn't something you asked.

_If I am, though, there are some things that I think you need to hear. To start, you're a better person than you think you are. I know you don't believe that, you probably think that you're a jerk._

_Well, you are. What I don't understand is, why? Why do you insist on acting so stupid and insensitive when you probably understand people better than I do? Why do you have to act like such a teenager? Do you have any idea how annoying that is? Do you want people to not like you?_

_If so, then it's not working. I hate to deliver the bad news, but people around here like you anyway. That includes me. So, I had really better be dead, because I don't trust you with that knowledge if I'm still alive. I know you'd take shameless advantage of it, more shameless advantage than you do now._

_And I know you're smart. No one pulls off a perfect 80 average without being very smart. Yes, I checked you out. I didn't tell Gibbs, though, even when he asked if I knew what 'eighty-percent' meant. So why do you act like you're thicker than a redwood tree?_

"Redundant, Kate. Everyone knows that redwood is a tree." He couldn't help himself. Even now, he had to call her on her mistakes.

Yet for all her smarts, she wasn't smart enough to figure him out. It was one thing to be McGee and _look_ like a geek, so people forgave you your brains as they obviously came as a consolation prize to make up for the rest of your shortcomings. But to be good-looking, athletic, _and_ intelligent… people just hated that because it gave them nothing to look down on you for. Better to be the 'dumb jock' and fit the category than to face the attacks launched from sheer defensiveness. Even with her, on those rare times he'd tried to break the mould, she'd shot him down until he gave it up.

_You're probably editing this letter, right now. What I want to know is, what are you so afraid of? Are you scared that if you let people into your life that something will happen to them? Are you afraid of being hurt? Because I can understand that. You really can be a sensitive guy when you want to be._

_I know, I know… you're probably sitting there saying she's a profiler? You probably don't believe me, but it's true. Not just the profiler part, but I know you can be sensitive, Tony. You're just quick to cover it up, hiding behind those smart remarks and acting like such a spoiled brat._

"What makes you think it's an act?" he murmured. He _was_ a spoiled brat, had been, right up until the moment Papa DiNozzo discovered that stubborn streak he'd never thought Tony had inherited. Even then, the way Tony saw it, he still got his own way. He hadn't caved into his father's demands and threats, he did what _he_ wanted and to hell with anyone else.

_I want to say that I learned a lot from you, more than you'd guess. You really are good at criminal investigation. You're better than I could ever hope to be. Again, I don't dare say this to your face, because I don't want your head to explode. Have some faith in yourself… don't rely on everybody else to provide it. I know you think that Gibbs God, but it's not always like that._

_Ease up on McGee. He's not the threat to you that you seem to think he is. I think, in some ways, he does admire you. Cynicism is not the only route to survival, however. Even if it is, he can build his own. I know you've got enough for six people, but some things don't need to be handed out as presents._

_Watch out for Gibbs for me. He's not as tough as he likes to pretend he is – nobody is, nobody can be._

"I've been looking after Gibbs longer than you have." He shifted his weight and the chair responded, reclining backwards just slightly. He moved his feet up on top of his desk and kept reading. Kate had been better at it though. Maybe it was some sort of chick thing. It had to be… guys (except McGee, maybe, but McGee was weird) didn't go around asking if their buddies were worried about each other.

_But don't tell him I said to, because it will only make him mad. I'm sure you already know that though._

_Go easy on the new person, whoever he or she is. Unless, of course, they're from the FBI… then you can harass the hell out of them._

He had to smile at that one, too. Secret Service loved the Feebs about as much as NCIS did; Kate had never had much love for that branch of federal law enforcement.

_Look after yourself, too. Get a life, preferably one of your own. Don't think I didn't notice you living vicariously through everybody else. A life outside of NCIS would be very good. And don't bring up Agent Cassidy… that's still NCIS and you know it. Even Gibbs has a hobby._

Wasn't that Abby's line, or close enough to make no difference? "Women." He muttered. What kind of a hobby was he supposed to get? He didn't have a computer brain like McGee – or Abby for that matter – couldn't build things like Gibbs, couldn't sing… he could dance, but the problem was finding someone to dance with. He was too old for pick-up games, too young for shuffleboard and chess. You couldn't do those alone, either… and wasn't that the point of a hobby? Something to do when there was no one to do anything else with? All he was good at was spending money, and he didn't ever have money to spend.

_And don't give me the 'I'm no good at things,' excuse. You need to find something, Tony. If you don't…how many funerals does Gibbs need in one year? He worries about you, you know. I honestly believe that you could have been contagious and he still would have rushed into isolation to try and save you._

_Yes, it's a guilt trip… but I'm pretty sure you're Catholic too, and if anybody should know how to feel guilty…_

He laughed. The good old Catholic guilt trip, as perfected by nuns and grandmothers. He could almost hear it now. "It's okay, Tony." He mimicked. "You go ahead and feel sorry for yourself. You just be miserable, and don't worry about how much everybody else is worrying about you. I'm sure they'll be okay. After all, it's not like they depend on you to be a part of the team or anything. They're perfectly fine, functioning without you. I'm sure God will understand." Shaking his head, he resumed reading.

_I mean it, Tony. Whatever it takes to make sure that you don't join me, I'm willing to do. Don't you think I deserve some time without you staring over my shoulder, and snooping into my things? Don't you think I deserve some peace?_

_I guess what I'm saying is take care of yourself. You're worth it, even if you are a pain in the ass. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise, especially the guy who sits behind your desk. It's okay to screw up once in a while._

_Is that it? Is that why you act like such an idiot? Are you trying to make people think that you're unreliable, so that when the inevitable happens and you make that rare mistake, they won't be disappointed? That they'll already be halfway expecting it? A personality version of 'always expect the worst'?_

_That's a lousy way to live a life. Watching you nearly die like that has really gotten me thinking about life. We should cherish it, we shouldn't be hiding and hoping and worrying all the time. We shouldn't think that other people need to be protected from us. And if that's the case… God, Tony, I'm sorry I picked on you like I did._

_No, I'm not. Not, at least, with everything. Some things… I hope you can forgive me._

"_Forgive_ you? Forgive _you_? I should be the one asking for forgiveness." After all, if Kate hassled him, it was only in response to all the grief he gave her. Pushing her for details about her sex-life, making fun of her sex-life, claiming she didn't _have_ a sex-life… he'd sat through enough harassment lectures. He knew the rules by heart. You didn't _do_ things like that in the modern, professional world. _She_ was the one who had to spend the last of her days working with a complete and total boorish ass. And at least she bothered to say something… not once had he managed to say 'I care about you, Kate.' or 'I think of you as a friend, Kate.' Nope… right up until the end it had been bragging and competition, even when he thought it was _his_ end and not hers. "Not that you probably _can_ forgive me." He felt tears burning at his eyes again. Hadn't he already been through this? He was alone though, except for her ghost, so he let them fall, hoping they'd help wash the slate clean and that she'd understand his remorse, his regret.

_Because I forgive you. I never realised before now just how deep your doubt runs. You really are scared of other people. So you push us all away with your idiot/jerk act. Who hurt you, Tony? Who hurt you so badly that you're afraid to let anybody close for fear of it happening again? _

"Oh, God." She'd never understand that. Maybe she did, a little, but relationship was never the same as _partnership_. You didn't put your life in the hands of someone you slept with, and if you did, well you shouldn't. But when you trusted someone that much… when the sombre men in the sombre coats showed up at the door, well, you just knew. You knew you'd never share another laugh, never have another fight, never get drunk together again. You knew you hadn't been good enough, fast enough, that you hadn't been there when the ghosts showed up and the shadows came to life. You knew that you should have listened better, done more. How could she understand the reasons why he sometimes followed people home, then watched outside until he felt that they were safe and that they didn't need him standing guard. What would she have said, on those times when it was her turn… what would she have thought if she'd looked out her window and saw him staring up at her? Would she have assumed that he was just the lecherous jerk, trying to live that vicarious life? Would she even have bothered to ask for the truth? Could he have told her?

"I'm sorry. I never wanted anything to happen to you. Please understand that." One of the tears fell on the paper, blurring the ink.

_One other thing I want you to understand. Whatever happened to me, it's not your fault. Understand that. Because despite everything you ever said, I know that you'd never intentionally hurt me. Even that S.W.A.K. thing, it wasn't really your fault. Any one of us might have opened that letter._

_And I know you'll feel that way. You want to be Superman, and save the world. But you know, even he had to be Clark Kent some days. You can't save everybody._

No… he couldn't save _anybody_. Wasn't that obvious? He swallowed, trying to stop his throat from closing up. He'd thought these wounds were healing, and now… why did she have to bring that up?

_I mean, for all I know, I'm sometime in my nineties when it happens. Or maybe I'll be hit by lightning. You can't know any of that, for certain. Nobody can. Maybe you'll never read this… after all, at the rate you're going, you'll be the first to go. Between the plague, rogue ATF agents and psychopathic transsexuals… you are the odds-on favourite to win that race. Either that, or you're living proof that there are people who can't be killed, no matter what you do to them. I swear, sometimes, we could drop you out of a plane without a parachute and all you'd do is bounce._

_Anyway, I just thought you should know some of this, because knowing how life is, I'll probably never get around to saying it. No matter what, though, remember: I've enjoyed having you as a friend. Don't you dare put a dirty spin on that._

_DNSWAK (but a hug all the same, because I'm dead and you can't feel me up),_

_Kate._

It took him a moment, then he got it. D.N.: Definitely Not. How like Kate to assume that he'd feel her up if she gave him a hug, even if he probably would have. It would have been worth the smack, just to get her going. That was one thing he'd really miss – the way Kate's buttons were so easily accessed. Because the game wasn't seduction, or one-up-manship or any of the other things people thought it was… it was about getting a reaction. Whether someone laughed, took his head off, or tried to make him cry; it didn't matter. It was _acknowledgement_.

"I'm going to miss you, Kate." She was an annoying, know-it-all, pain-in-the-ass, but weren't you _supposed_ to have things in common with the people around you? And now she was gone.

He started to pack her things back into the box and was about to add the letter when he paused, sticking it into the drawer of his desk instead. It was addressed to him after all, in that strange way that defined their entire relationship. Someone else could take over her desk… she could share his as long as they needed.

In the meantime… he came here to do paperwork, and Gibbs wasn't going to wait forever for his reports, no matter what Ducky and Abby said to him to force sympathy. While he was at it, he could whittle down the suspect list on that case with the threatening letters and dead animals that someone kept sending to a second lieutenant who was enough of an asshole to deserve something (the list had fifty names on it, down from sixty-three). But at the same time, whoever was making poor, unsuspecting mail carriers handle fried squirrels just wasn't being fair. Grabbing a cup of cheap coffee and a candy bar from the machine, he settled in and got down to business.


End file.
